The world tilted with the weight the virulent energy that filled the shrine, but Rowan refused to let it knock him off balance.
The last time he was here, he felt like he was underwater. Now he felt like he was drowning in mud. The energy clung to his legs and pulled at his thoughts, trying to suck him down and block him out at the same time.
No wonder Wren had struggled so much to pry himself loose.
Rowan gritted his teeth and willed his legs to remain steady as he stepped into the source of Wren's anguish.
The lone candle rested on the floor near the pitiful excuse for a mattress that Rowan hated so much, caught in its state of timelessness as always. As if sensing his presence, the flame leapt and stretched toward him before settling back into place, the light turning as bright and golden as Wren's eyes.
